


Gifts from an Angel

by rotg5311



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Capitol Cas, Capitol Citizens, Character Death, District 7, District Dean, Enochian, Hunger Games, Hunger Games Supernatural Cross Over, Hunger Games-Typical Death/Violence, Inspired by The Hunger Games, M/M, Secret Admirer, Secret Crush, Secret Identity, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Sponsor gifts, Supernatural - Freeform, The Capitol, Violent Death, Wing Tattoo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2019-08-16 23:14:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16504649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rotg5311/pseuds/rotg5311
Summary: When Sam is picked at the Reaping, Dean wont have it. He volunteers instead and sets off on a Journey of blood and Death. He can handle his own, but the mysterious gifts from a sponsor in a language he's never seen before help more than he can say.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, this is just an idea I've seen floating around a little bit, so I took it and ran with it. I have so much planned for this fic, so if you like it let me know and I'll keep it up. If its trash, also let me know and i guess ill stop lol.

“Samuel Winchester!” His Brother’s name was called out like a shot out of the barrel of a gun. Aimed straight at Dean’s heart. The air was knocked straight from his lungs, making it impossible to breathe, impossible to think. But as soon as Dean saw that mop of long brown hair move through the crowd, everything became crystal clear.

“I volunteer” Ignoring the shocked murmurs, he pushed his way to the front. “I volunteer as tribute.”

All eyes were on him. It had been a long time since someone from his District volunteered. So long in fact that he wasn’t even sure it had happened before. At least not in his eighteen years. They weren’t careers. Dean didn’t have any of the illegal training that they did. Yet he knew if he didn’t volunteer now, he would never see Sam again. Young Sam, finally growing into his body. Dropping all that baby fat. Learning to talk to girls. Doing so well in his classes that the teachers wanted to speak to John about it… Not that John was ever around.

Yes, it seemed so obvious. If Dean wanted Sammy alive, he would have to take his place. He was eighteen, probably going to be one of the oldest Tributes. A fourteen year old had no place in the combat zone. His odds at survival were so much better than his Brothers. And he would survive. For Sam. He had to.

“A brave soul offering up his talents!” The odd looking Lady said with a smile plastered to her painted face. “What’s your name young man? Please, come up here.”

For once, Dean didn’t have to push or shove his way through the crowd. The sea of bodies moved from his path as he approached the stage. He wouldn’t look at them. He didn’t need to see their eyes. Shock, disgust, pity. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam, now standing apart from the crowd, headed for Dean. Someone held him back. Dean was grateful for the small mercies. If Sam tried anything all Hell would break loose with the Peacekeepers. “Dean Winchester.”

“Winchester! A Brother looking to claim all the fame and glory for himself.” Dean tuned out her off pitch voice as she droned on and on about how he should be proud or some bullshit like that. This was a game to them, nothing more. If there was anything Dean had learned was that if you didn’t play along to their rules, bad things happened. To you. To your loved ones. So, he would play the game, no matter how sick it made him.

“What can I say? Can’t let Sammy have all the fun.” He had become so good at faking smiles y now that the only one in the crowd who could probably tell was Sam. That’s exactly why he wouldn’t look at him.

The lady, whose name Dean never bothered to listen to, moved on to the girls. Dean ignored their terrified faces. He ignored the faces of every single parent in the crowd, praying it wasn’t their kid picked. Instead he looked down at the necklace Sammy had given him so many years ago, he couldn’t even place the age. Whenever he was nervous, he fiddled with it. Now was no different.

“Charlene Bradbury!”

No. Charlie. Bile swelled in his throat. Friends were far and few in Dean’s life, but Charlie had always been the exception. No, she wasn’t a friend, she was more like a sister. The Sister he never had. And now he was going to lose her too. Sending a prayer to whatever was out there that he didn’t believe in, he begged someone would step up and take her place, like he did to Sam. Deep down, he knew no one would. Charlie had no sisters. Charlie had no friends. Charlie barely had family besides him and Sam. Neither of them could take her place.

She made her way up to the stage, taking the opposite side of the Capitol Pig, putting on the same show face that Dean wore. Don’t let them see your fear, not this early. The ones who cried, screamed, resisted, they never lasted long. Dean needed to last as long as he could. He needed to make sure Charlie did, too. One of them was going to win this year, he would make sure of it. Charlie could take care of Sam just as well as Dean could. He trusted her.

Time flew after that, everything a blur. Dean didn’t relax until Sam was in his arms saying goodbye. Then, and only then did Dean let a few tears fall. He hadn’t planned on letting Sammy see him cry, but he couldn’t help it when he saw how bad his Brother was sobbing and begging him to come back. That was the only time John had ever said he was proud of Dean. Stepping up to take his Brothers place. The only thing that did was harden his heart. A lifetime worth of trying to please John, and he finally managed to do it on Deaths Door. Better late than never.

Choosing his words carefully, Dean made sure he let Sam know that he would be back, and if not, then Charlie would. He wanted to make sure Sam wouldn’t have to worry about where his next meal came from. One of them would be back for Sam. It was a promise he had every intention of keeping.

With one last goodbye, he was off, riding a full speed train straight to the Capitol. It was his first time on a train, and now the memory would be tainted forever. Speeding off to his death. His or Charlie’s. Voices snapped him from his thoughts. A gruff old man stood with Charlie, already seemingly deep in conversation. Dean learned his name was Bobby, their mentor. He was in charge of helping them train, getting them sponsors. It was his job to try and keep one of them alive. He took that job very seriously. From the moment they left until the second they got to the Capitol, Bobby was nearly nonstop with tips and tricks on how to win. It was all so overwhelming, but he made sure to try as hard as he could to retain everything Bobby said. The man had won once, he must know what he’s talking about. Any advice he could get would only help.

Wash up, change your clothes, eat. Simple directions, yet they felt so surreal. Dean was wearing the cleanest, newest clothes he had ever worn in his life. He was sure he had never been so clean before himself. The look on Charlie’s face mirrored his. It was like they were raising prime pigs for slaughter. Which, was sadly true. Clean them up, feed them, send them to their inevitable deaths.

Dean had hardly said a word to Charlie since the Reaping. What could he say? ‘I wont let you die.’ He would try his hardest. Only one of them could make it out alive, only time would tell which one it would be. ‘If I don’t make it, take care of Sammy.’ She knew that. They never even had to have the conversation. Charlie was as close to Sam as she was to Dean. They were family, and family took care of each other. ‘I love you.’ That one would hurt too much. It was admitting one of them would die. That’s just something Dean couldn’t say out loud. So instead, they shared their silence, listening to Bobby, retiring to their extravagant bed chambers when the time came. Things seemed easier that way.

The Capitol was even more shocking in person than in pictures he saw in school, or the videos that showed once a year for the Hunger Games. Bright colors everywhere. Buildings, clothes, hair, skin. It was more than a little frightening out of the pure shock factor alone. After that, Dean was absolutely fascinated. And disgusted. He was convinced he could be both. Citizens of the Capitol were Pigs, but their way of life was so alluring yet repulsive at the same time. An artificial City for artificial people.

The crowds gawked. Dean wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of reacting. Poor Charlie couldn’t help but turned red at the attention. She tried her hardest to ignore them. Dean snaked his hand into hers for moral support, something they had done since forever. Immediately he regretted it. The crowd went wild. He heard bits and pieces on conversations, everyone speculating they were lovers. Let them think what they want. It didn’t make it true. Dean squeezed the hand tighter, taking as much comfort from it as he hoped Charlie was. As long as they stuck together, things would be fine. Or as fine as they could be, considering.

His plan lasted all of five minutes. They had been ushered into a larger, rainbow building, lager than one he had ever seen before, then whisked off to separate rooms. They referred to it as the ‘Remake Center’, a space to remake shabby District children into something the Capitol would love to ogle. Citizens of the Capitol were all into appearances, this was all part of the game, which means Dean didn’t protest as they waxed his body. He just screamed internally as they pulled strip after strip from him.

“Normally, this is reserved for the Ladies. It makes them nice and soft. Delicate. Beautiful.” The Woman with lime green hair told him. He would play their games, let them wax his body, dress him up pretty, and send him to slaughter, but Dean would e damned if he was going to remember their names. It was Green hair, tattoo face, and Snake eyes. They had corrected him several times before finally caving in. If these people were going to treat him like a doll, he wasn’t going to treat them like people either. It was one of the few acts of defiance he could actually get away with. “But you’re just so Pretty, that we feel this will go over better with the people.”

It was something Dean had known for a while, that he had very good looks. Chiseled face, body, green eyes, a killer smile. A desperation to feed his family had forced him to embrace and use those characteristics to his advantage. However, looking in the mirror now, he hardly recognized what he saw. They really primped and primed him for the masses. 

After the initial embarrassment of so many people seeing him naked finally wore off, Dean became quite compliant. Sure, it was weird, but he had never had someone wash him before, much less scrub him down the way they did. It was nice for a change. They rubbed him down with something that set his skin on fire before leaving a nice tingly clean feeling in its wake. Dean had thought he had been clean on the train. He was wrong. They had stripped out every fiber of filth on his body, straight down to his DNA. The one thing he wouldn’t let them touch, remove, or cover up with make up was his tattoo. They could wash it, clean it, make it ‘pretty’, but they couldn’t alter it. Dean nearly shoved Tattoo Face to the floor when he suggested it. It was a simple star, wrapped in a fire-like circle over his heart. Sam shared one in the same place. They had gotten them two years ago, both being far too young. Dean flashed his long lashes at the lady and flirted his heart out until she agreed. It was an old symbol, pre-Panem, yet it had been sort of a family crest, being passed down from generation to generation on all sorts of things. Dean had taken Sam out on his twelfth Birthday to get the tattoos together. Twelve, when his name would be put into the drawing. It was something they would have of each other. Just in case.

Finally when his three goonies were finished with him, they called in his Stylist. Her job was to shove him into a ridiculous costume for the Opening Ceremonies. Dean knew it would either be slutty or embarrassing. He wasn’t exactly sure which he would prefer.

A few hours later, Dean was shaking his head staring at Charlie in disbelief. At least they looked good, which is more than he was expecting. For years District 7 tributes had been clad in tree related costumes. It made sense. They were the Lumber District. One year, they had even varied off from the norm by dressing them as some sort of origami covered masses of white. That hadn’t gone over too well with the crowd, though Dean had thought it wasn’t as awful as everyone said. Variation in their costumes was something that never went over well, which is why Dean was surprised that they weren’t trees. They were Lumber Jacks.

The only variation between his and Charlie’s outfits were that one was slightly more masculine than the other. Both wore tight black hats that hugged their heads. Charlie’s beautiful red locks had been lopped off, barley long enough to reach the bottom of her cap. She didn’t seem to care about it either way, but Dean thought she looked nice like that. She had a tiny black top that covered her breasts, and her breasts only, leaving her stomach bare. Over that was a red plaid vest, opened to show off the pale skin beneath. Dean wore the same vest in the same style, only he was completely bare underneath. Abs, chest, arms, it was all visible. He had never been so grateful that he had muscles to rival the Careers in District’s 1 and 2. Finished off with cut jeans that ended halfway down their thighs, and thick, black boots, Charlie and Dean also each carried an axe. His only saving grace was that they didn’t make him wear suspenders.

Climbing into their chariot, they waited their turn. Dean’s stomach doing flips the whole time. It was time to show off their prized pigs now. It was sick. Dean laced his fingers with Charlie one more time as the Chariot started to move.

“Just smile and wave.” Charlie murmured to him before taking her own advice. She was right. Pretty people got sponsors. Happy people got sponsors. People with sponsors lasted longer. It was a sick game and Dean had to play along to survive. He dropped Charlie’s hand and started to wave at the people around him. He smiled, blew out a few kisses, made sure to butter up to the colorful figures around him. The crowd went wild.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean’s quarters in the training center were bigger than his entire house back home. There were so many automatic gadgets with buttons that it made his head spin. Sam would’ve known just what every single one of them did, he was smart like that. It’s a shame that the only way he would’ve gotten to use them would be if he was here, waiting for certain death.  
Another shower. More new clothes. Getting called to a meal he can hardly eat. Dean wasn’t ready for it all. He just wanted to sleep. Or at the very least have a private place to sit down with Charlie and talk about everything. The two of them share glances across the dinner table. Bobby and the Capitol Lady from the reaping, who Dean finally, albeit reluctantly, learned the name of, were discussing their strategy.  
“You have to have some skills!” Lilith practically screamed at them, finally at her wits end. Dean didn’t like her before, but he hated her now. He hated the way she wore her make up. Hated how she did her hair. Hated the sound of her voice. He hadn’t realized it before, but it was like she was striving to appear as childish as possible. Was that a common thing for Citizens of the Capitol to do? It must be nice to pretend to be a child. Dean would never. District children go to the Hunger Games, not Capitol children. The fact that she could easily pretend to be a kid when it was literally a symbol of death for anyone else made his stomach twist. Because of that, he wasn’t going to make her job easy. She was in charge of ‘Watching’ them. She was also the one that had to talk to people about their strengths and skills. It must make her job harder if she didn’t know a thing about them. Luckily Charlie seemed to be thinking the same thing he was.  
“We aren’t as active as the rest of our district.” A lie.  
“I’ve never handled an axe in my life!” Another lie.  
“Why would I know how to fight? When would I need to use that skill?” Probably the biggest lie of all.  
Lilith tugged at her childish curly locks before storming out of the room. Once she was gone, Charlie and Dean turned to Bobby, who broke into a smile. “Now that shes gone shall we get to business?”  
“Sure. You know the basic skills we have, other than that I can throw a mean punch. That’s about it though.” Dean told him honestly. When you had gotten into as many fights as Dean had, you learned fast. If someone came at him without a weapon, he probably stood a good chance.  
“I’m good with electronics. Not that there will be any for me to make use of.” She was good. Better than Sam even.  
“You can swing an axe?” Bobby asked them, to which they nodded. Things like chainsaws made cutting down trees easier, but everyone started out with an axe until they could control something a lot bigger and mechanical. “They always have them. Find one, use it.”  
From what Dean could recall, there had been at least one axe in every Game he’s seen. If he could get a hold of one, that would give him a significant advantage. The only problem was the Bloodbath. Once the Game started, everyone would rush the Cornucopia, looking for the best tools. That’s how many Tributes die. Dean could either take his chances to get weapons, food, water, a sleeping bag, or anything else he might need, and risk dying, or he could run the other way and hide. Which also meant the risk of dying if he couldn’t find food or shelter. Whatever Charlie decided was good enough for him. He was going to make sure they stuck together.  
His eyes drifted to the servant refilling his glass. A plain girl dressed in white. Dean had seen a few of them around since he arrived at the Capitol. They never spoke, they never made eye contact… They made him uncomfortable.  
“Dean?” Bobby’s voice snapped him from his thoughts.  
“What?”  
“I was saying, don’t show off your best moves until your Private session.”  
“My Private session?”  
“Boy, did you listen to a single word I’ve been saying? During Group training try things you haven’t done before. It’s the perfect opportunity to learn something new that might save your life. Stay away from what you know. When you have a Private session with the Gamemakers, show off everything you can really do. If the other Tributes don’t know what to expect from you, you might stand a better chance of making it further.”  
It made sense. If no one thought Dean was a threat then they wouldn’t go after him first. He would take Bobby’s advice and try everything new that he could.  
That night Dean barley slept. He paced, he meditated, he even tried running to tire himself out. Eventually he wandered into Charlie’s room. At least she was asleep. He didn’t hesitate to climb into bed next to her. It wasn’t the first time they had shared a bed, but it could be one of the last. Some nights when John was too drunk and angry, Sam and Dean would stay with Charlie. On the rare occasion Dean had to do questionable things to get food or money to feed Sam and he felt too dirty to go home, Dean would stay with Charlie. There was never any touching or cuddling or sex. Dean meant it in every way possible that she was like a Sister to him. He took comfort in her presence.  
When he woke up, Charlie was already up and ready to go. She wore a black and green suit. He wasn’t sure what it was made of, but it was more luxurious than anything he had owned before. A matching one waited in his own room.  
After breakfast, they headed to the basement for training. The room is huge. Weapons as far as the eye can see. It looks deadly. Dean notices the other tributes in nearly identical outfits as him. Someone pins a 7 to his back. They’re early, but not the first ones there. The rest of the tributes file in slowly after. He finally takes a minute to asses them. A few people stand out right away. Big ones with muscles. Small ones that look fast. The well fed children are all Careers. Figures.  
Dean had come from one of the more wealthy districts, so he knew some of the others around him had grown up in worse circumstances. But even though his District had money didn’t mean his Family did. After his Mothers death, their Father had lost his job due to drinking. No job means no money. Once Dean got old enough to do so, he made it his mission to take care of Sam, to make sure he always had food in his belly, and to keep John’s drunken anger away from him.  
Dean follows Charlie from station to station. His hands are on everything within his reach at all times. Bobby gave him advice, he was going to follow it. The one thing Dean tries to focus on the most is edible plants. The last thing he needed was to have him and Charlie come down to the final few and be killed off because he picked them out something poison to eat. He makes sure to steer clear of hand to hand combat, not wanting to let people know how secretly good at it he really is. Instead he watches, trying to pick up on new moves he doesn’t know. Moves the other Tributes will be learning. Hopefully if they try them, he’ll anticipate it.  
For days they do this. Dean slides into bed with Charlie in order to get some sleep, they clean up, eat, and head to training. Few people talk to them, and Dean likes it that way. He’s not here to make friends. They’ll die anyways. He can’t handle killing friends off. Slowly, Dean picks up a few skills here and there, so does Charlie, but he can’t help wondering if it’s enough. Will he need the things he already knows? Will he need any of the skills he just can’t seem to master? If only he knew what the arena would be, he could make sure they better prepared themselves.  
On the third day, they get called in to their Private sessions. Dean does everything he can to wow them. Combat, knife throwing, he even manages to throw an axe across the room and hit a dummy straight in the center of the chest. Weight lifting, and obstacle courses are the last thing he does for good measure. Bobby told them to impress the judges, so he would try his hardest. But was it enough? The higher the score, the more likely you were to get sponsors.  
Waiting for the results is hell. Dean and Charlie just chat the whole time, trying to take their minds off it. At some point Bobby joins it, too. Lilith doesn’t. Dean’s happy that she realized how unwanted she is around him. By now she knows what skills he really has, but she’s barely said a word to him since that first night. Just before the scores are announced, she shows up, sitting wordlessly by them. Dean doesn’t spare her a glance. Her modified baby face only spikes the rage within him.  
Picture, score. Picture, score. Careers do good, as usual. One even manages to get a twelve. That could mean they’ll go after him first, bypassing their makeshift alliance. Dean wondered what he did to impress the Gamemakers. Whatever it was, he was the biggest threat as of now.  
Charlie: 7.  
Dean patted her on the back. They hadn’t really talked about what they did in the arena, but at least she impressed them. A 7 would get her a sponsor.  
Dean: 9.  
He let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. A 9 was more than he could’ve hoped for. A 7 and a 9. Someone would sponsor them, he was sure of it. With a sponsor, they had a better chance at survival. Bobby is thrilled. Lilith looks unamused. Dean ignores her and celebrates a little with Charlie and Bobby. He doesn’t even bother to look at the rest of the scores for the other Districts. He could care less. Seeing their faces means he has time to memorize the faces of those about to die.  
As much as he had been trying to avoid Lilith, Dean couldn’t do it forever. Stuck with her for a few hours nearly killed him, but he powered through and even managed to listen to the advice she gave him. Smile, laugh, play nice, get the audience to like him. It was something he could do, whether he wanted their approval or not. He knew he needed it. It would help him in the arena. The more people that favored him, the more people would consider sponsoring him. Appearance was half the equation. Quality content was the other half. Bobby decided they would play to their strengths of being attractive. Charlie in a feminine way, which she wasn’t too happy about, Dean in an androgynous way. The Capitol men were usually less than Masculine, so Bobby and Lilith both decided an androgynous approach would be better. Dean was too ‘pretty’ to be manly. He didn’t care as long as it pleased the crowd.  
For the interview, Bobby gave Dean two options. Talk about himself or compliment the Capitol. He hated both of those choices. He didn’t want to tell them about his family. He didn’t want to be another sob story. He also didn’t want to butter them up with false compliments. What he really wanted to do was get up on stage and rant about how Citizens of the Capitol were disgusting Pigs that fed on the deaths of innocent children as a source of awful entertainment. But this was a game, a game that his life depended on, and more than likely his Brothers too. So he would play by their rules. Which meant he was about to lie his ass off in front of the entire Nation of Panem.  
Again, Dean is scrubbed and scraped by his Prep Team. Just when he had begun building his layer of filth back up. The collar of his shirt is unbuttoned, showing off the skin beneath it. The loose jacket over it has the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His shoes have a wedge so high that he might as well be in heels. A thin wisp of eyeliner sweeps under each eye, making his green eyes pop. The makeup on his face his so thick that it covers each and every freckle he’s been building up since childhood. They don’t paint his face or dye his hair, and for that Dean is grateful. Looking at himself in the mirror, he decided the angle he will try to pull is ‘suave’… It’s worked before, he’s sure he can pull it off again. Either that, or he would try to fall back on his dry humor.  
One by one the tributes went on stage, got asked a serious of questions, and left the crowd cheering. Dean knew he had to try just as hard as they had. He watched the Host carefully. It was a new man than the previous year, so Dean wasn’t sure what to expect out of him. Sandy hair, spiked up, tipped in red. Modified red eyes. A pure white suit topped off with a strange red flower Dean had never seen before. The man seemed unafraid of anything. No question was off limits. He seemed to take pleasure in making the Tributes uncomfortable. Dean wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction. When his turn came he sauntered up to the stage, giving a painfully fake smile at the mass of screaming people.  
“So, Dean, how have you been enjoying all the comforts of the Capitol?” They were hardly comforts. Not when you knew the only reason you got to use them was because you were being shipped off to die.  
“Well, Luci, I can call you Luci, right?” Dean smirked at Lucifer, not waiting for a reply, instead gazing out to the odd faces in the audience, “I can’t say I’ve ever had a shower quite like the ones here. I don’t think I’ve ever been so clean.”  
Everyone chuckled, including Lucifer, though Dean could see something change in his eyes.  
“Now, you volunteered to take your Brother’s place. To claim all the glory and honor for yourself no doubt.” Another cheer. Dean nodded. He wanted to scream that they are monsters for sending children to die, and that this was the only way to save his Brother. But if they called it an act of selfishness, then so be it. Let the lie continue. “Tell us about him.”  
“His name is Sammy. He’s 14. We have matching tattoos. He’s my world.” It was the truth. They didn’t have to know anything else.  
“A tattoo? You’ve got to show us!” Lucifer looked at the crowd, encouraging them to roar in approval. Dean undid two more buttons, pulling the white fabric to the side, revealing his matching mark. He didn’t button it back up. Eyes seared into his naked flesh. If this didn’t make them like him, he didn’t know what would.  
He gave Lucifer a wink, hating himself for it, but knowing it was the right move when he heard the audience’s approval. A few more questions, a bit of light flirting, then Dean was done. He watched Charlie next. She worked a soft, sweet, girly angle. Dean had to talk her into it. She had the looks, she could use it to her advantage. After that, Dean tuned the rest out, not wanting to laugh with the tributes, cry with them, feel for them. It would make everything easier tomorrow when Dean had to watch the life leave their eyes one by one.


	3. Chapter 3

Run. Find water. Hide. Bobby’s last bits of advice swam through Dean’s head as sat in the Hovercraft, rubbing at his forearm, still sore from where they placed his tracker. There was no way to know how long they would be there, since they had no idea how far they needed to travel to get to the arena. It could be anywhere. It could look like anything. Would they dump him in some desert? Maybe a marsh or an icy tundra? The possibilities were endless and Dean didn’t want to waste time speculating, but he couldn’t help it. Giant forests were something he was used to. If they put him in one of those, his chances of survival would be better.

In the Stockyard, he changes into his arena clothes. Like usual, it’s a simple black suit. It doesn’t look insulated, which means they probably wont be in snow. Good. Dean never liked the cold anyways. There’s also no floatation device, so that rules out water. Only District 4 Tributes could truly swim, being surrounded with water. Floaties were mandatory for everyone else so they didn’t die immediately. The necklace from Sammy was packed in with the clothes. It was his District symbol. The only thing of his he was allowed to take with him. He tucked it in to his shirt, protecting it from being ripped off. It was an extension of him. Of Sam. He wouldn’t know what to do if he lost it here. At the very least they would return it to Sam off Dean’s dead body.

In the cylinder, Dean almost breaks down. He it his lip until it bled. He wouldn’t cry, he wouldn’t scream. He would appear strong until he won this and made it home to Sam. He had to. No matter what. Darkness gave away to…less darkness. Dean knew it was around midday, yet it looked like dusk out. He didn’t know why. Already, he didn’t like it. In the center sat the Cornucopia. Surrounding them was a forest of trees Dean had never seen before. He had been wishing for a forest, and yet this one seemed so ominous that he would rather be in the middle of some frozen wasteland instead. Far off, there were mountains. Dean didn’t know if they were in the arena, or just outside the borders. He didn’t think he would venture far enough to find out.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” The announcers booming voice calls out all around us, “Let the Seventy-second Hunger Games begin!”

Sixty seconds. That’s how long they were required to stay on their platforms. Dean took the chance to lock eyes with Charlie. She glance to where a few bags sat outside the Cornucopia. She wanted to head for it to get supplies. If that’s where she was going, that’s where Dean was going.

3...2...1... The Gong rings out and Dean is on the move. He’s fast, but not fast enough. A few Tributes have already reached the Cornucopia and are grabbing things they picked out from their platforms. Some go straight for weapons, others go for food. One girl, small in stature, with a face Dean swears he’s never seen before, has her hands around a backpack, getting ready to run in the other direction. She never makes it. A knife appears in her temple in a flash, spraying blood across some of the supplies. As she crumples to the ground Dean rips the back from her lifeless fingers without hesitation. There could be anything in it, he can’t pass up the opportunity.

A shrill scream sounds out behind him. Dean doesn’t look. His hands wrap around the two closest items. Neither of which is an axe. The one thing he was hoping for. A sack of what he hopes is food, and an ornate dagger. Not perfect, but they’ll do. He’s already been there too long. He needed to get Charlie and hightail it out of there before one of them didn’t make it. A sharp pain flared through his arm. A knife like the one in the dead girls head gleamed back at him. He didn’t rip it out, he didn’t look who threw it. He just ran. Charlie was already at the edge of the woods, waiting. Luckily there were just enough Tributes out in the open to pick off that no one seemed to notice her. Once he was close enough, she took off running, letting him trail behind.

Dean isn’t sure how much time passes, but they alternate between a run and a jog until Dean knows he needs to stop and fix his arm. It’s a mixture of tingly and numb. His black sleeve is wet with blood. Charlie takes a look in the backpack Dean managed to grab. A thin sleeping bag. A flask filled with water, a rare treat, since they usually came empty or filled with something else. A packet of matches. A flashlight.

No food. No medicine. She checked the sack Dean grabbed also. Four slices of bread, an apple, and an orange. It wouldn’t last them long, but it was better than nothing. Charlie’s supplies consisted of a jacket, a blanket, a length of rope, and small sword. She cut a strip from the blanket to wrap around Dean’s arm. Once they found running water, he would clean it out. He couldn’t waste what they had now on it. In one fluid, tear jerking motion, she pulled the throwing knife from his arm and tied the strip there to stop the blood. As long as they didn’t move for a while, it should clot up fine. There just wasn’t a lot of hiding space in sight.

They sit in silence as the canons boom. Ten. Ten tributes dead. He wouldn’t know who until they showed their faces later that, though they didn’t really matter. Not to him anyway. As far as Dean was concerned, they all had to die. He was making it home to Sam one way or another. Or at least Charlie was.

Not even an hour passed before a silver parachute became visible in the sky. A sponsor gift. His heart leapt in his chest. Whatever it was, it was for them, and they needed it. Just by the look alone, Dean could tell it came straight from the Capitol. Whatever he did must’ve paid off. Charlie caught it before it hit the ground and rushed back to his side before looking at it. A small package. Simple enough. Inside was a bandage wrap, two tiny pain pills, a packet of Capitol grade healing cream, and a note. Notes were rare with gifts, especially from strangers. Occasionally, if a family could afford it, they would add a note with a line of encouragement. But those were few and far between. Deans name was at the top, but that was all he could read. The rest wasn’t in any language he knew.

“This must’ve cost a fortune.” Dean marveled at the items. One thing cost a lot. Dean got three. The fact that Citizens had money to waste on ‘entertainment’ amazed him. He looked around at the dead, leafless trees. No doubt there were a dozen cameras trained on them right now. He smiled as brightly as he could. It would help with sponsors in case he needed something again. “Ow.”

The cream stung. Dean assumed that meant it was cleaning and healing him. He had no idea how long it was supposed to take. They didn’t use medicine like this in his District. It was too expensive. Once the bandage was wrapped firmly around his bicep, the pain was easier to ignore. The pain pills were nearly instant. He fiddled with the note again before folding it in half and shoving it into one of the tiny pockets on his suit. Something about the strange words fascinated him. Another boom of the cannon went off, signaling another death.

“We should go.” Charlie said, looking around. The Tribute, and who ever killed them, could be just out of sight for all they knew. Besides it was getting dark…Well…Darker than before. Whatever animals were around would be coming out soon. They needed to find shelter.

Now that Dean could move freely, they started their jog again. It was almost dark when Charlie stopped by a thick patch of trees. So thick that they could put their backs up to them, and only be attacked from one side. They decided to sleep in shifts. Dean insisted on staying up first, but Charlie argued until she was blue in the face. With all the blood loss, he could use a quick nap. Finally he caved in, opening the sleeping bag and crawling inside. Charlie sat next to him, bundled in her jacket, insisting it wasn’t too cold out. He huddled closer to her, trying to radiate some heat her way.

The Anthem plays, the seal appears, and then the faces. Dean watches out of respect, taking a minute to mourn the loss of all the lives lost. They were enemies. They stood between him and Sammy. But they were still the children that died because of the Capitol’s horrible ways. A few faces he recognized. A couple of those were the ones he expected not to make it through the first day. Sleep came fast after that.

When Charlie woke him up, it was still dark. He wasn’t as well rested as he wanted to be, but it was enough. They traded places, Dean taking the jacket to stay warm, Charlie bundled in the sleeping bag pressed into his legs. He let a hand run through her hair. One of them wouldn’t be making it out of here alive. Dean would miss her, no matter what the outcome.

The sun rose so slowly that Dean barley even realized it had happened. Maybe because it still looked like almost dusk around. He was glad they had that flashlight, it would probably come in handy. He let Charlie sleep for a little longer than he should’ve. She would need her energy.

Going to the bathroom didn’t sit well with Dean. He had only ever seen a Tribute in the act twice. Both times it was only because they were caught and killed. If he were to go, it better not be like that. Other than that, cameras never broadcasted that content. It was gross.

Charlie shoves the slice of bread in her mouth. Then she chomps away at her half of the apple. They should save it, make it last. But a sliced apple will wither fast, and that would be a waste. Half their water was gone. They needed to find more today, or they wouldn’t last long.

A few hours in, Dean saw something in the distance that nearly stopped his heart. A shack. It was so run down and worn out that he was surprised it was still standing. He veered off diagonally to stay away from it. Any Tribute could be inside, using it as a shelter, ready to pounce. He wasn’t going to take the chance, even if there were supplies inside. An ambush wasn’t worth it.

As late afternoon rolls around, they take a break, foraging for plants. Dean’s glad he took time to memorize some of the edible plants. He can’t name what he found, but he’s sure without a doubt that it’s edible. They split a piece of bread with it. Starting to move again, another canon sounds off. They move faster. Another night, another day, they’re out of water. By some miracle they manage to follow some sort of animal to a stream, where it drinks. It doesn’t die, the water must be safe. It sees them sneak up and runs off. Dean isn’t sure what it is, he’s never seen anything like it before. Maybe something from some far off land. Maybe something they patched together in the Capitol. It doesn’t matter.

A snap in the distance echo’s in his mind nearly as loud as the boom of the canon. His head turns to Charlie. She didn’t hear it. Maybe it was an animal, headed to water. Maybe they would be fine. But more than likely it was another Tribute. Someone coming to kill them. Dean wouldn’t let it happen. They could run. Whoever was behind them might hear it and follow. They might make it somewhere safe. The Gamemakers wouldn’t be happy. They might release something to bring them back together and force a fight. At least this way they had the upper hand. He motioned towards Charlie and she perked up instantly understanding. Each of them took a spot behind a tree, waiting. It took a few minutes, but another snap sounded out, a lot closer this time. Dean gripped his knife and waited. No hesitation. He could do this. It was them or him, and if it was him, then he wouldn’t make it back to Sam.

The second he saw a face pass by, Dean was moving. Before the Boy could even turn his head in acknowledgement, Dean’s dagger was buried into his neck. The boy fell, clawing at the handle protruding from his skin. He gasped once, a sound so awful that it seared itself into Dean’s brain, where it would more than likely stay for ever. Blood dripped from his nose and mouth, and then he was gone. A canon rang out in the silence. Dean yanked his dagger out, wiped it on his pant leg, and kept moving. Charlie didn’t say much after that. Neither did Dean, instead he replayed the awful wet gasp the boy made as he died over and over in his mind.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to add in a note that the creature in here is based on the tunnel vampires from the Alternate Universe.

The second time he saw a shack, Dean avoided it much like the first one. The third time, he made the awful decision to check it out. They had no food, he was tired of scavenging plants, they were all starting to look like stuff he hadn’t seen before. He wouldn’t risk their lives over something as silly as that. He made Charlie wait a few feet away. He told her it was to make sure no one snuck up and trapped them inside to kill them, which was partly true. In reality he did it to make sure she had enough time to run if someone popped out at him.

This shack was more of a cabin. It was slightly bigger and less run down than the previous two. Dagger in one hand, throwing knife in the other, Dean pushed the ajar door lightly with his foot. A long, loud, ugly creak squealed out. If anyone was inside, they knew he was there now. He counted to five before he took a step inside. The inside was nearly black, though his eyes adjusted quickly. It was just as dilapidated as the outside had been. A flipped table, overturned chairs, and a piled of broken glass were the only clear things visible. At least there wasn’t anywhere to hide except for the one door at the far end of the building.

He sidestepped the glass and headed for one of the cabinets, hoping there would be food inside. The first one was empty, the second one was the same. A soft creak behind him made him freeze. In an instant he was flinging himself out of the way, seconds before a figure crashed into the wall he had previously stood in front of. The tall, skinny figure turned and rushed him again. Dean was absolutely mortified when he realized it was humanoid.

“What the hell?” He moved again, swinging at it with his dagger. The blade slashed its arm, but did nothing to slow it down. The thing growled at him, baring long sharp teeth. A bald head, pale skin, pointy ears, dark eyes. What the hell was this thing?

It pounced. It was stronger than Dean, faster than Dean. They slammed into the wall, and fell in a heap. Fangs went for his neck, which Dean was just barely able to block, holding the things head at arms length. It was a position he couldn’t keep forever. In the struggle he had lost both his weapons, now he was going to die. Hopefully Charlie heard the commotion and ran. Dean wouldn’t survive, so it was all up to her now.

Inch by inch, the head crept forward, growling at him. Dean was fighting a losing battle, he knew it, yet he couldn’t just let himself give up. He closed his eyes, and pressed his lips together tightly so he wouldn’t go out with a scream. The Capitol Pigs loved it when Tributes screamed. A spray of hot liquid splashed across his face, jolting him from his thoughts. He heard a thump and roll, then the body on top of him went limp.

Dean opened his eyes, and stared straight at a spinal cord. What the fuck? The thing laid on top of him, headless, with a mortified Charlie standing above it, sword in hand. Her voice mirrored his thoughts. “What the hell was that thing?”

“I don’t know.” It wasn’t a Tribute. It wasn’t a human. That meant it was something the Capitol made specially for them. It was odd. They usually modified animals, not people. Maybe it was a new punishment for the traitors and the rebels. Maybe it wasn’t really a human at all, just a way to mess with their heads.

He threw the body off himself and stood up, stepping over the decapitated head. Charlie went over to examine it, taking a close look at the long ivory teeth slowly receding into it’s mouth. Dean peaked in the last cabinet and took the sack out, not bothering to check it yet. They needed to get out of there. It was risky, heading back to the stream without actually needing a drink, but Dean had a desperate urge to wash the blood off his face. Blood had always grossed him out, but this felt extra wrong and dirty. Whatever kind of monster that was, he didn’t want any of it on him anymore.

He would blame his shaking body on the cold water he threw in his face repeatedly, but the truth was that he was terrified. There was no way he would be going into another one of those shacks, not for food, not for supplies. Nothing was worth staring into those cold dead eyes again.

“What was that thing?” Charlie asked again, kneeling down next to him to clean off the spots of blood he had missed. She looked just as mortified as he felt. “It was…Human.”

“I don’t know what that thing was, but it wasn’t human.” That was the truth. It may have been humanoid, but there was something purely animalistic about it. Like a starved dog. If the Capitol Citizen liked it, they were sure to see more. If they hated it, that would most likely be the only one they ever ran into. Dean hoped for the later, but he knew they probably wouldn’t be so lucky.

He reached into the sack he found in the cabin and pulled out a packet of beef jerky. That was it. He was thankful for the food, they needed it, but it hadn’t been worth all that to get it. “Damn it.”

They kept moving, circling back around the way they had came. By now they were almost at the Mountains, which Dean knew was the border of the arena. If they ventured out too far, the Gamemakers would turn them back around. Forcefully. It was better if they made that decision on their own. Eight Tributes were left. One from 1, two from 2, one from 4. No doubt they were still together. The Careers only turned on each other after everyone else was dead. Both Tributes from 3, 10, and 12 were dead. Other than that, Dean wasn’t sure who came from what District and who was still alive. All he knew was that there were six obstacles, Charlie, and them him.

In the distance he saw another silver parachute. Another gift from the Capitol. Was it for him again? Was it for Charlie? Or was it for someone close by that they couldn’t see? Dean scanned his surroundings before running to the gift and picking it up. Inside the sack was an abundance of food. Rolls, fruit, some sort of vitamin supplement for their water, and a small pot of stew. Folded up in the corner was another note. Same as before, Dean’s name was on top, followed by a line of letters he didn’t recognize.

As much as he hated anyone and everyone from the Capitol, he was so grateful for the food. It was like he had an Angel watching over him. This time, he stared directly into the only camera he could actually see and he gave it a wink. No doubt whoever was sending him things had liked his charm. A thank like this might get him even more stuff down the line.

Like the gentleman he was, Dean let Charlie at the soup first. She ate a quarter, trying to let him have the majority of his gift for himself. Dean wasn’t accepting that. It had only been a few days, but she was already losing what little weight she had. They argued until she agreed to have more. Once she got to half, she stopped and wouldn’t eat another bite. At least she had a warm meal in her. He shoved two rolls at her and glared until she finished both of them. Then he took first watch, taking comfort in the soft breathing he could hear coming from Charlie in the sleeping bag. As he ate the stew, Dean swore he could cry. It was so good. He missed warm food. Real food.

Once he was done, he took out both the notes that had accompanied the gifts and unfolded them to take a look. The area they settled down in that night had just enough of an opening in the trees above that a sliver of moonlight made its way through. He wouldn’t risk using the flashlight, so the dim glow of the Moon would have to do. For the longest time, he didn’t know what he was looking at. The only thing he could recognize was his name, the rest just looked like gibberish. However, the longer he looked, the more he could make out. After staring until his eyes hurt, Dean realized the last word in both notes was the same. It must be a signature, though he couldn’t tell for sure. For all he knew it could say anything. Gently he folded the notes in half, on top of the other and placed them back in his pocket. Whoever sent it had been generous enough to add them, the least he could do was keep them as encouragement.

Once again the anthem played and the single face of the Tribute to die that day showed over head. One yesterday, one today. The Capitol wouldn’t be pleased about that. He knew tomorrow would have more deaths, even if the Gamemakers had to force them into it. Dean would keep leading them back into the center. If they ran into someone, he would kill them. If the Gamemakers were forcing them together, either by fire or avalanche or mudslide or animal attack, and then they ran into someone, keeping himself and Charlie alive would be harder. Things would be easier if he had some semblance of control.

The vitamin supplements his secret admirer had sent were a Godsend. Charlie was showing obvious signs of malnutrition, and while he couldn’t see himself in a mirror, he knew he must also be starting to look bad. If it came to a fight and he was too weak to win, then he might as well lay down and die now.

The next morning came and went, and they were nearly back to the Cornucopia. He had to be extra careful now. Half a roll was in his mouth when he nearly choked on it as an arrow flew by his head. Narrowly dodging it, Dean jumped behind a tree, eyes searching for Charlie. The only thing more red than her hair was the pool of blood she was laying in.

“NO!” The cry was forced from his lips. The arrow was lodged just under her ribcage, slowly moving up and down as Charlie gasped for breath, finally stopping as one last gurgle past her lips. A boom of a cannon sounded off and Dean saw red. He was barreling towards the girl before he could stop himself. Clearly a bow wasn’t her preferred weapon, since she had clearly missed a heart shot with Charlie. Dean was on her before she could knock another arrow. In a blind rage he ripped the bow from her hand and bashed it into her face. Her screams were muffled, as if he was hearing them from a distance.

Crack, crack, crack. Dean barley registered the sound of the bow hitting the female Tribute in the face. When it broke, he reached for his dagger. She had stopped screaming by then, and he was fairly certain he had heard another cannon, but it didn’t matter. He just kept plunging the blade into her chest. When he finally pulled himself off, his bloody hands were so sore that he could barley flex them. He must’ve been gripping the dagger harder than he thought.

As long as he was there, they wouldn’t come and retrieve the bodies. He needed to say one last goodbye. It took him a few minutes to work up the courage to face Charlie. He had let her down. He should’ve done something to save her. It was all his fault.

“I’m so sorry.” Dean fell to his knees beside his best friends lifeless body. The only good thing about crying on National TV was that the tears made everything fuzzy. It was almost like he could ignore the way her eyes glossed over or how the color drained from her face. It wasn’t that hard to pretend she was just sleeping once he closed her eyes. Dean had known from the beginning that this was one of the two ways this could’ve ended, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. It was like he could feel something break in him. Charlie was gone, so now he needed to win. He had to. For Sammy. He placed a kiss to Charlie’s forehead and got up. “Goodbye, Charlie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If yall have any feedback I'd love to hear it


	5. Chapter 5

Something raw had been building up inside Dean since he watched Charlie die. He was angry. Furious that the Capitol found any entertainment in children slaughtering each other. Sure, it was a ‘punishment’, but they were being punished for an uprising they never participated in. It was wrong, and there was nothing he could do about it. The only thing he could do was make it home to Sam. Which is why he didn’t hesitate to attack the small boy from District 6 that he found.

The boy was small, but strong. In the struggle Dean had lost his knife and received a nasty cut on his cheekbone that wouldn’t stop bleeding. But in the end, he wrapped his hands around that boys neck until he heard the cannon signaling his death. A hollow feeling resonated in his chest. He wouldn’t let himself mourn the death of someone he didn’t even know. It was him or them. The choice was simple.

With five of them left, Dean wasn’t sure what to expect. It was the Careers and him. Some years when this happened, they would stick to their pact and hunt down the remaining Tribute before turning on each other. Other years, they brawled to the death and the remaining one went after whoever was left. There was no way for Dean to know which way it was going to go, but he hoped for the sound of cannons. Would it be too much for them to all die trying to kill each other so he didn’t have to kill anyone else?  
His scuffle with the nameless boy from District 6 had been downhill, where he lost his remaining weapon. The one he had from the beginning. It had been working out so well for him that he never even bothered to take Charlie’s before her body was whisked away forever. Now, on his hands and knees searching for the thing he needed to survive, he regretted it. The boy had nothing on him except food. Dean didn’t even know how he had made it so long without being able to fight back.

Another silver parachute flickered into view. Right away Dean could tell it was a weapon. Something he needed. His sponsor really was amazing. Unwrapping the soft cloth, Dean pulled out the most beautiful blade he had ever seen. Plain, long, silver, perfectly weighted. When he made it out of here, he wondered if the Gamemakers would let him keep it as a souvenir. Not that he wanted a reminder of the worst few weeks of his life, the blade was just so mesmerizing that Dean wanted it. Wanted to look at it in natural sunlight, not the dull artificial light of the arena.

Just like the other gifts, there was another note. His name, some words, and the signature. Rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger, Dean couldn’t help but wonder who it was from. Who in the Capitol was so willing to spend so much money on him? The longer the Games went on and the closer they got to the finish, the more expensive gifts became. And this sponsor had been sending him things from the start. It must’ve cost them a fortune, especially something as wonderful as this. Dean could’ve just as easily spent a little more time searching for his knife in the mess of the forest, yet someone had sent him something new. Something bigger, better, more effective for the battle to come. Whatever Angel was sending him these gifts wanted Dean alive.

The note was placed with the others. For whatever reason, Dean couldn’t part with them. When he made it home, he would have Sam help decipher them. Sam was smart. It was a thought that kept repeating in his head. Sam would help him figure out what the notes said. Sam was a genius. Sam, Sam, Sam. He would make it home to Sam, and he had this Sponsor to thank for it. Whatever he needed was handed to him on a silver platter. Or more accurately, attached to a silver parachute. The least he could do was find out why. Maybe the notes would say. It was the one thing to keep him sane. Now he had a goal. With only four people in his way, that goal was almost tangible.

That night he didn’t sleep. Dean was responsible for four deaths. The boy he stabbed in the throat, the girl with the bow, the boy from District 6, and Charlie. Sure, he hadn’t been the one to take Charlie’s life, but that didn’t make it any less his fault. Maybe the other Tributes would fade from his mind with time, but Charlie never would. If he had lead them down a different path, she would still be alive now. If he hadn’t been busy eating food, if he had been watching out like he should’ve been, he would’ve seen the girl with the bow before she got the chance to fire at them.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep, maybe it was due to the reckless nature he had acquired, but one second Dean was on his feet and the next he wasn’t. The rope tightened around his foot before he really understood what was happening. Faster than he could blink, Dean was dangling a few feet in the air, unable to reach the ground. “Son of a Bitch!”

The blade was flung from his hand, landing just out of reach below him. If he made it out of this he should definitely consider tethering it to himself. He had dropped his weapon far too many times, and now it could be the death of him. Dangling from a tree meant he was a sitting duck. Someone set the trap, they would be back for whatever it caught sooner or later. Wouldn’t they be surprised to find a Tribute waiting defenseless, ready to be killed. Maybe if he could swing himself up, he could untie it? The drop would hurt, but it probably wouldn’t break anything, and even if it did, that was still better than the alternative. Any injuries he got here would be healed on his way back to the Capitol when he won.

The blood was rushing to his head fast, making him dizzy. How long did he have before he passed out? He needed to get out of here before that happened. Swinging quickly turned out to be pointless. Dean just couldn’t get the momentum he needed to reach all the way up to his ankle. A figure appeared in the distance, walking slowly toward him, not even bothering to hide. Why would they? Dean was defenseless. The closer they got, the more familiar they became.

He stood an arms distance away before Dean could finally place his face. It was the Career that had scored a perfect 12. That meant he could kill Dean in about a million different ways, all of which would make the Capitol go wild. They took the brutal deaths wonderfully. Sometimes the Gamemakers even orchestrated them that way when things got extra dull.

“Hello, Darling.” The boy said, smiling at Dean. As long as they were talking, Dean was alive.

“Look, if you’re going to kill me, it should at least be a fair fight.” The boy was deadly, but maybe he was dumb. If Dean could talk him into letting him down, then maybe he could fight him, or at least run. “Let me down and we can get this party started.”

“Kill you?” He said, quirking an eyebrow. “I had something better in mind. How would you like to make a deal?”

“A deal?” What kind of deal could he possibly offer Dean? And why wasn’t Dean already dead?

“Well don’t act so surprised. I think we could use each others help.” The Tribute started to circle Dean. The hairs stood up on the back of Deans neck every time the boy went out of sight behind him. He was on guard, expecting the worst, but it never came.

“I don’t need anyone’s help.”

“Oh really? I beg to differ. I’ve been watching you this whole time. You can’t get down. I’d say you need help with that at the very least.” Dean couldn’t see it as much as he could hear the smile. The boy came into view to face Dean, sure enough he was smiling like the Devil. “So how about you take my offer.”

“I’m listening.” Dean wasn’t happy about it, but he wasn’t really in a position to refuse. The blood rushing to his head made it hard to think of a way to get out of there.  
“As I’m sure you’re aware, there aren’t that many of us left, which makes things a bit more tricky, since all those stuck up snobs are, well, you know...”

Careers. Probably best to not say it on TV.

“So are you.”

“Regardless of that, there’s three of them and only one of me. I don’t like those odds. But if I throw you in the mix, then I stand a better chance of making it out of here.”

“So what? You want to use me as bait or something? No thanks. Kill me now.”

“No, you brute.” He rolled his dark eyes at Dean. “I want to team up. They’ve all split apart. We’re hunting each other now. But if you and I go after them one by one, they won't be expecting it.”

“And then what, you stab me in the back? Like I said, no thanks.” Dean didn’t like that idea at all. Better for him to just die now and let the rest of them brawl it out. At least then, maybe one of them would get an injury the Capitol couldn’t fix. Serves them right.

“Oh boy, you are dull. Let me spell it out clearly for you. If you help me, then we both stand a chance. I swear to give you a fair fight when we’re the last ones left. If not, then I leave you strung up here. In which case you better hope the animals get to you before those things do.”

The things. Either he was talking about what Dean and Charlie had seen in the shack, or he had seen something worse. Dean didn’t want to find out. He also didn’t think he could make it down on his own. At least this way he stood a chance to make it home to Sam. A fair fight was better than no fight at all. But that didn’t mean he had to trust this guy.

“So, do we have a deal?” Dean didn’t like the way he said it.

“Yes.”

In a second Dean was crashing to the ground. He hadn’t even seen the dark haired boy cut the rope, it had been that fast. He grabbed his new blade and faced his new frenemy. He was shorter and stockier than Dean. What had he done to gain a 12 in the first place?

“Shall we seal it with a kiss, Darling?” It came off as a joke, though Dean wasn’t sure if it wasn’t meant that way or not.

“No. And my name is Dean, not Darling.”

“I know who you are, Dean.” He stuck out his hand to shake Dean’s in greeting. “Just call me Crowley.”

“Crowley? You District 1? Because that‘s just the kind of whack job name they‘d give you in District 1.”

“You wound me, Darling.” Crowley told him, already walking the other way. Guess he was following him. It was better this way. At least he couldn’t get a knife in the back. It was hardly a comforting thought however. Dean had the feeling Crowley didn’t need to be behind him to get the jump on him. But it was all a risk he was willing to take in order to get home to Sammy.


End file.
